*
why not marvel
at the thin long beak
of the firecrest
.
or cry tears realizing
such songs
came from a thumb
size chest
.
he fit the mouth
of my cat
so little it was this
bundle of joy
.
covering the sky
among trees
with his wings
soft in my palm now
.
.
.
Sunday’s posts are dedicated to Italian Poetry
*
come goccia d’olio
trattenuta dall’acqua
mi estendo piano
impercettibilmente
–
lentamente pascolo
l’anima accudita
cresce alta
eterea
.
.
.
Sì, la domenica le poesie sono in italiano.
Tuesdays posts will be in English as usual.
.
*
eternity roams
inside me I can’t
help but travel
forever wondering
the mind and space
on earth as in dreams
seeking some order
chasing the waters
harmony to fill me
deep from the inside
to make me a lake
alas at home
.
.
This poem is part of the bilingual poetry collection California Notebooks 01 on sale on Amazon. If you wish you can read the Italian version on the post previous to this one titled Armonia.
Sunday posts are dedicated to Italian poetry
*
l’eternità vaga
dentro me non posso
che viaggiare
perlustro senza sosta
la mente e lo spazio
sulla terra e nei sogni
cerco un ordine
inseguo le acque
l’armonia che riempie
a fondo da dentro
per farmi lago
alas a casa
.
.
Sì, la domenica le poesie saranno in italiano!
Questa poesia è parte della collezione bilingue California Notebooks
Tuesday Poems will be in English as usual.
*
to be me
the one I’m
inside immune
to time and places
to recognize the one I
ought to welcome with love
.
.
.
Yep, today is my birthday!
.
Happy New Year, Happy New Life!
*
I wish no one
to die without a hint
of poetry
a hue of love
compassion or
passion
I wish you
all the urge to cross
over this
threshold
while in your home
a nice skin
seeking a touch
from heaven to come
.
.
.
.
This poem is part of the poetic collection, available on Amazon, California Notebooks 02
*
le mie poesie sono
su misura hanno orli
che definiscono le
forme e finali che
calzano l’iridescenza
nella quale si muovono
.
.
.
*
I wish I had not
the compulsion
of changing words
around of giving them
new shapes new
sounds I wish I
just could see
you the word
.
.
.
Sunday’s posts are dedicated to Italian Poetry
*
il freddo mi àncora
alle parole del cuore
precise scalfiscono
le pause della goccia
che fugge il rubinetto
intervalli ben scanditi
il respiro teme nascosto
le verità che affiorano
tra i colpi in sincrono
.
.
.
Sì, la domenica le poesie saranno in italiano!
Tuesday Poems will be in English as usual.
.
*
I do not comb my hair
messed up by sleep nor
my thoughts tangled
.
I don’t follow others’ words
my dreams hold me down
I stumble among slow steps
.
.
.
*
I press hard
most of the times
my whole
life to go beyond
.
to detach myself
from disappointment
transcending
into the essence
.
.
.
*
the minute
I had to convince you
I was worthy
I should have noted it
was the day it
was over
.
.
.
*
I have worn shoes
covered with trails
dust sticking loud
louder than my long
path of silence I
have asked to see
the way I could tread
barefoot as in a dream
where roads aren’t
hard where people
say without speaking
love is reverence
.
.
.
..
.
*
poetry falls
as pigment
on wet paper
.
creating
a world
of beauty
.
marveling
at the smooth
escape door
.
.
.
*
just before
I breathed in I was
breathing out
I run to this
place to be with you
you seem aloof
to life or to give
anything out afraid
even to receive
I play with the birds
trills as people rush
home from work
.
.
.
This poem is part of the collection California Notebooks 02
.
